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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27495097">Nightmare</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/accurst_writer/pseuds/accurst_writer'>accurst_writer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Nightmare - Halsey, Songfic, it was so weird for me to write enobaria as a rebel rather than just cato and clove's mentor, slight background clato if you squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:57:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27495097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/accurst_writer/pseuds/accurst_writer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've tasted blood and it is sweet"<br/>She'd always been a biter when she fought.</p><p>Enobaria's backstory in songfic form.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nightmare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>Now I lay me down to sleep</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I pray the Lord my soul to keep</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>If I shall die before I 'wake</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I pray the Lord my soul to take</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A tiny girl of four years old, Enobaria Golding sat on her bed, clasping her fingers together. “Please let mommy and daddy stop fighting. Just for one day.” She whispered. They never would.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>They talk shit, but I love it every time</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Fucked up family, broken arm that had never quite set properly.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She went to the Academy rather than deal with it any more.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>And I realize</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I've tasted blood and it is sweet</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She was known for being a biter when she fought.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I've had the rug pulled beneath my feet</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The older kids shoved her and jeered. “You thought we were your friends?”</p><p class="p1">She didn’t need friends any more.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I've trusted lies and trusted men</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You thought I loved you?” Her boyfriend laughed. “I never gave a fuck.”</p><p class="p1">She didn’t need love any more.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Broke down and put myself back together again</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">There were nights where she would cry, sitting in her dorm alone. She always pulled herself together before morning. Enobaria didn’t do weakness.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Collected the pieces and picked out a dagger</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The Academy rules stated that you have to specialize in two weapons when you turn 10. Enobaria had known what she wanted since before she was 9. “Dual swords for my primary weapon and throwing knives for my secondary.” She said, confidently.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I've pinched my skin in between my two fingers</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>And wished I could cut some parts off with some scissors</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">This was her year. She stared at herself in the mirror. Sure, her dress didn’t flatter her. “Not exactly attractive.” She muttered. She didn’t care. You didn’t need to be attractive if you were deadly. And for a 16 year old, she was.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>"Come on, little lady, give us a smile"</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>No, I ain't got nothin' to smile about</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The Capitol escort at the Reaping asked her why she wasn’t smiling. It was a great honour, after all. Enobaria rolled her eyes. “I’ll smile when I win.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I got no one to smile for, I waited a while for</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>A moment to say I don't owe you a goddamn thing</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Caesar Flickerman asked her who, in her life, was waiting for her to win. “I am.” She replied confidently.</p><p class="p1">Caesar sighed. “Is there a special guy back in 2? Surely he’s waiting for your victory?”</p><p class="p1">Enobaria shook her head. “Even if there was, why would I tell you?” That was her angle. Rude. Abrasive. Deadly.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Fucked up family. Broken arm that never set well. Betrayed by her friends. Hated by the boy she thought she loved. Her first kill.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Her first kill in the Arena was just as sweet.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>They talk shit, but I love it every time</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She laughed as she slit the throat of her District partner.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>And I realize</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>That I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The boy from 1 was baring down on her. They were both weaponless. He had her pinned, so she did what she’d always done instinctively. She bit.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>No, I won't smile, but I'll show you my teeth</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>And I'ma let you speak if you just let me breathe</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">At the post-victory interview, Caesar asked if she would smile now. She promised she’d smile when she won, after all. Enobaria just snarled, showing off her newly-sharpened teeth. Maybe it was to conceal the fact that she didn’t remember how to smile.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I've been polite, but won't be caught dead</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Lettin' a man tell me what I should do in my bed</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">After her Victory Tour, she answered the phone in her house to hear President Snow’s voice.</p><p class="p1">She gave a flat answer to what he said.</p><p class="p1">“No. I won’t.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s a shame, Miss Golding, that you would refuse me like that. Think of your family. Do your parents still live in that run down house by the mines?”</p><p class="p1">She covered the phone and laughed. He couldn’t threaten anyone that mattered to her, because no-one did.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Keep my exes in check in my basement</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She walked to the graveyard where her childhood boyfriend was buried, and merely stared at his grave with contempt. As she left, she passed the freshest graves in the graveyard. Her parents. She spat at their tombstones as she passed, smirking. She was a Victor now, and they were in the ground.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>'Cause kindness is weakness, or worse, you're complacent</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I could play nice or I could be a bully</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She started working at the Academy after that, and quickly gained a reputation as one of harshest teachers.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I'm tired and angry, but somebody should be</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>"Come on, little lady, give us a smile"</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>No, I ain't got nothin' to smile about</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I got no one to smile for, I waited a while for</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>A moment to say I don't owe you a goddamn thing</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Every year, she mentored the Tributes. Taking future Victors to the Capitol, and watching them die on the battlefield. Lyme offered to take over a few times, but Enobaria brushed her off. It didn’t bother her, seeing them die.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Fucked up family. Broken arm that never set well. Betrayed by her friends. Hated by the boy she thought she loved. Her first kill. A dead family. A job teaching children to be killers.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Her life was crazy, and she liked it that way.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>They talk shit, but I love it every time</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">There were whispers about her in the Capitol. She disagreed with President Snow, they said. She was a rebel, they said.</p><p class="p1">I’m not, she said. I love the Capitol, she said.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>And I realize</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She didn’t love the Capitol. In fact, she’d been the worst Victor they’d had (except maybe the drunkard from 12) and they couldn’t kill her. She was still too well known. She was free to be a thorn in Snow’s side as long as she wanted.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Fucked up family. Dead family member. Broken shoulder that never healed fully.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She looked at the file of the new girl at the Academy and she saw herself.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>They talk shit, but I love it every time</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>And I realize</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">This girl could be like her. An unkillable, famous victor. The Games never stopped, but the sides you play for change.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>But I'd rather be a real nightmare than die unaware, yeah</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Enobaria knew what she had to do. Push the girl to believe in the Capitol so wholeheartedly that the Arena would break her. And she’d build herself back up.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Someone like me can be a real nightmare, completely aware</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>But I'm glad to be a real nightmare, so save me your prayers</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Glory for their District. And a pain in the ass for Snow.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Fucked up families, knives and swords, a thirst for blood. Enobaria looked at the teenage girl and nodded. “You’ll volunteer tomorrow.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The girl went in with a boy she knew. Her training partner. If he died, Enobaria knew the girl would be pushed over the edge. She loved too much.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>They talk shit, but I love it every time</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">District 12 was making a good play this year, but Enobaria knew her pair could kill them in a second.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>And I realize</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The girl died. The girl Enobaria spent so long shaping into the perfect Victor, the perfect rebel, was killed. Maybe she’d even cared. Enobaria snarled viciously, throwing the water bottle she was holding at the screen.</p><p class="p1">The boy died not long after.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Fucked up family. Broken arm that never set well. Betrayed by her friends. Hated by the boy she thought she loved. Her first kill. A dead family. A job teaching children to be killers. Watching them die.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She knew she shouldn’t have cared.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>They talk shit, but I love it every time</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">When she saw Snow read the card, she laughed derisively. He wanted them all dead. He wanted her dead. He wanted Johanna Mason dead. He wanted Cashmere and Gloss dead. And most of all, he wanted the lovebirds from 12 dead.</p><p class="p1">She volunteered with Brutus. Maybe she wanted vengeance for her Tributes from last year. Maybe she just wanted one more Game.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>And I realize</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The Arena blew up and the Capitol caught her. Brutus had died. Cashmere had died. Gloss had died.</p><p class="p1">She was released back to 2 unharmed.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>That I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Let them have a taste of their own medicine” She cast her vote. Maybe she even smiled.</p>
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